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Duke  University  Libraries 
The  battle  of  M 
Conf  Pam  q#109 


p. 


attU  0f  Manassas, 


BY  SUSAN  ARCHER  TALLEY. 


Now  proudly  lift,  oil,  sunny  South, 

Your  glad,  triumphal  strains, 
From  fair  Virginia's  verdant  hills, 

To  Texas'  sandy  plains. 
Now  glory  to  the  Southern  band 

That  swept  away  their  gathered  hosts, 
And  laid  their  banner  low  ! 

Loug  wave  our  Southern  Standard 
O'er  hearts  that  never  yield  ; 

Like  those  who  won  the  victory 
On  proud  Manassas'  field  ! 

The  Summer  sun  rose  gloriously 

That  peaceful  Sabbath  mora, 
O'er  wooded  hill,  and  verdant  vale, 

And  fields  of  waving  corn. 
No  solemn  bell  was  tolling  out 

A  welcome  to  the  day — 
But  there,  upon  the  teutcd  plain, 

Our  quiet  army  lay  ; 
When  sudden  pc;iled  the  bugle's  blast, 

And  rolled  the  stormy  drum, 
And  swiftly  ran  fr"m  man  to  man, 

"  The  foe  !  they  come  !  they  come  !" 

Oh,  there  were  quick  and  stern  commands, 

And  hurried  mounting  then  ! 
Up  rose  our  gwllant  officers, 

Upsprang  our  eager  men  ! 
Each  heart,  alike  of  young  and  old, 

Beat  high  with  martial  zeal, 
As  we  caught  upon  the  distant  hills 

The  gleam  of  Yankee  steel. 
And,  silently  and  slowly, 

Our  serried  ranks  fell  back  ; 
While  onward,  marching  to  their  doom. 

They  followed  in  our  traek. 

At  length  our  destined  point  is  won — 

The  order  we  obey, 
And  silently  our  ranks  defile, 

And  form  in  war  array. 
There  stand*  the  hoary  headed  sire 

Beside  his  stalwart  son  ; 
And  there  the  youth,  elate  as  though 

The  victory  were  won  ; 
While  on  each  manly  visage. 

In  every  earnest  eye, 
Is  writ  the  stern  resolve, 

To  conquer  or  to  die! 

It  was  a  great  and  glorious  sight, 

That  dazzling  Summer  da\ . 
As  face  to  face  those  armies  stood 

In  all  their  proud  array  ! 
There  stretched  their  lines  of  infantry 

In  rows  i  f  glittering  steel, 
And  thundering  o'er  the  echoing  plains 

Our  fiery  troopers  wheel ; 
While  on  each  crowded  eminence 

We  marked  with  eager  eyes. 
Defended  front,  and  flank,  and  rear, 

Their  boasted  batteries. 

Now  comes  ■  brief,  expectant  pause    - 

A  hush  of  solemn  awe — 
N\  ben  sadden  from  their  cannon  pealed 

The  thunder  notes  of  war! 
We  stood  as  stony  statues  stand, 

And  scarcely  drew  a  breath. 
While  thick  amid  our  columns  flew 

The  raessengors  of  death. 
We  gripped  our  shcathen  sabres, 


We  reined  our  chargers  hard — 
And  looked  to  where  brave  Johnston  stood, 
And  gallant  Beauregard. 

Now  quick-defiling,  right  and  left, 

Their  mfautry  came  on — 
When  sudden,  on  our  distant  flank, 

Out  pealed  the  signal  gun  ! 
And  as  from  out  the  brooding  cloud 

The  tempest's  wrath  is  poured. 
So  'mill  the  whirliug  sulphur  clouds, 

Our  cannon  flashed  and  roared. 
Rank  attcr  rank  is  swept  away, 

Yet  still  their  numbers  swell — 
A  thousand  rushed  in  the  breach 

Where  but  an  hundred  fell. 

As  pour  the  angry  ocean  waves 

On  Nova  Scotia's  banks, 
So  downward  rushed  that  Northern  horde 

Upon  our  serried  ranks. 
As  stands  against  the  tempest  might, 

Gibraltar's  living   rock, 
So  stood  our  gallant  Southerners 

To  meet  the  mighty  shock. 
The  earth  beiu  ath  us  trembled, 

And  clouds  obscured  the  sun  ; 
He  seemed  to  pause,  and  gaze  aghast, 

As  once  at  Ajalun. 

Now  fast  as  falling  hail-stones — 

Their  shot  around  us  pour — 
With  din  of  rlashiug  bayonets, 

And  cannon's  thundering  roar. 
And  thrice  their  bristling  ranks  advance, 

Aud  thrice  before  us  yield. 
Till  loot  to  loot,  and  hand  to  hand, 

We  grappled  on  the  field. 
They  slowly  closed  around  us — 

They  wrapped  us  in  their  coil  ; 
And  Southern  blood  is  poured  like  rain 

Upon  thu  Southern  soil ! 

Down  came  their  fierce  artillery, 

Down  came  their  fiery  Zouaves! 
While  two  to  three,  each  Southern  arm 

A  path  before  him  carves. 
But  hark  !  the  signal  of  retreat! 

And  stubbornly  and  slow 
Our  gallant  remnant  backward  falls, 

Still  fighting  as  they  go; 
Still  fighting— some  with  mangled  hands, 

And  some  with  glazing  eyes  : 
Not  one  of  all  the  dying  yields, 

Or  of  the  living,  flics. 

Ho  !  courage,  noble  comrades  ! 

Not  yet  the  day  is  lost; 
For  see,  upon  the  dusty  hills, 

Yon  downward-rushing  host! 
Two  weary  leagues,  that  Summer  day, 

To  the  quickly-timing  drum. 
Through  blinding  dust,  and  burning  heat. 

Unwearicdly  they  come! 
Now,  "Elkv  to  the  rescue!'' 

No  pause  of  rest  they  know, 
But  charged  with  levelled  bayonets 

1  |i"ii  the  shrinking  foe  ! 

Again  in  deadly  conflict 

Our  scattered  numbers  close; 

When,  high  above  tho  battle's  din, 
A  mighty  shout  arose  ! 

Now  grappled  foemen  loose  their  hold, 


And  gaze  with  esger  eye; 
Whose  was  that  signal  of  defeat? 

And  whose  the  victory? 
'•  Hurra  !   hurra  !"  that  mighty  shout 

The  very  skies  might  stun — 
"  Charge  Cavalry  !  the  day  is  ours! 

Their  batteries  are  won  !" 

With  sabres  flashing  overhead, 

With  wildly-flowing  rein, 
A  thousand  gallant  horsemen 

Are  thundering  o'er  the  plain. 
Woe,  woe  !  unto  the  Northern  hordes 

In  that  terrific  hour  ! 
They  fly.  as  flee  the  autumn  leaves 

Before  the  tempest's  power. 
Their  foot  are  swept  before  them, 

And  horse  and  rider  reel, 
As  right  and  left  in  Southern  hands, 

Flashes  the  Southern  steel. 

On,  on  !  ye  gallant  victors, 

Aud  press  your  charges  hard  ; 
For  yonder  leads  our  President, 

Aud  noble  Beauregard  ! 
"Hurra!  for  gallant  Davis!" 

The  dying  strain  their  eyes, 
And  feebly  join  the  mighty  shout, 

That  rends  the  very  skies. 
"II  tin  a  !"  the  foe  is  vanquished  ! 
Their  scattered  numbers  yield  ; 
And  proudly  floats  our  Southern  flag 

Above    Manassas'  field  ! 

Oh,  God  !  it  was  an  awful  sight — 

That  gory  battle-plain, 
Where  hor.-e  and  rider  mingled  lay — 

The  dying  and  the  slain. 
There,  loeman,  gripped  in  fierce  embrace. 

Were  lying  side  by  side  ; 
And  some  had  crossed  their  shattered  arms, 

And,  calmly  smiling,  died; 
And  hoary  heads,  all  steeped  iu  gore, 

Gasped  out  their  latest  breath; 
And  near,  the  lair  and  youthful  lay, 

Still  beautiful  in  death  ! 

Wail,  wail !  ye  Wes.ern  matrons — 

Weep,  maidens  of  the  North  ! 
Who,  in  the  foul  oppressor's  cause. 

Have  sent  your  kindred  forth 
And  weep,  ye  Southern  women  ! 

Your  hearts  shall  vainly  yearn, 
For  the  manly  form  and  the  youthful  brow 

That  never  can  return. 
Yet  mourn  ye  not  disconsolate  ; 

Their  names  he  ever  bright, 
Who  perished  in  the  cause 

Of  freedom  and  of  right ! 

Yea,  glory  to  our  noble  dead 

As  to  our  living  brave  ! 
And  o'er  them  may  our  Southern  flag 

Forever  proudly  wave. 
Long  live  our  gallant  Davis! 

Aud  honored  ever  be 
Our  Johnston  and  our  Jackson, 

Our  Beauregard  and  Lee  !      , 
And  glory  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 

Who  was  our  strength  and  shield. 
And  crushed  the  tyrant's  boasted  might, 

On  stern  Manassas'  field. 

RiCHMotio,  Auj.  3,  1861. 


C  ►  .     3*"/ 


* 


Hollinger  Corp. 
PH8.5 


